


Twizzlers

by dustiie



Category: Social Network (2010)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 19:19:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustiie/pseuds/dustiie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wardo worries, that's all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twizzlers

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings applicable for part 2. (So hang in there.)

The matter of the Twizzlers.

 

First of all, there was the matter of unhealthiness. The fact that _one_ serving (which, going by the nutritional value stamp on the back, was equal to four twists) was a whopping total of 140 calories, 20mg of sodium, a total carbohydrate count of 34g, _16_ of which was sugars, and 1g of alleged protein.

No Vitamin A, B-12, C, D, E. No Calcium, no copper, no folate, no iron, no magnesium, no manganese, no niacin, no pantothenic acid, no phosphorus, no riboflavin, no selenium, no thiamin, no _zinc._

Each packet contained twelve twists, or three servings, so simple maths would bring Wardo to the conclusion that each box brought Mark 420 calories, 60mg of sodium, 108g of carbohydrates, 48 of which were sugars, and 3 grams of protein closer to a clogged artery.

 

It was so bad, that grocery shopping stressed the living daylights out of Wardo. Honestly. The shopping list clearly stated six packets for Dustin, one modest one for Chris, and _twelve_ for Mark. _Twelve_ , which meant one hundred and forty four Twizzlers for Mark, and the shopping list was for this week _only_.

Wardo didn't want to see Mark die of clogged arteries at age nineteen, and it made his palms sweat. They didn't even want real food. The wholewheat bread that Wardo had put in his basket was his own idea, and he _knew_ they would all turn their noses up at it over breakfast, and probably not eat it. But Nutella on toast and orange juice were better than Mountain Dew and Twizzlers to start the day with, and in all honesty, Wardo worried…

He knew that they were all college students, and that it was normal for people their age to live off alcohol, sugared treats and three minute noodles, but Mark also never slept, and he spent his days stooped over a computer and typing so much Wardo feared he'd get some sort of early-onset arthritis if he didn't start drinking more milk or calcium supplements.

Maybe he was a little paranoid, but it--… It was hard. Mark was his friend, his best friend. And they were doing this whole thefacebook thing as partners, and Wardo wouldn't know what to do if Mark died of cardiac arrest one day--how would Wardo keep thefacebook running? He didn't know the first thing about coding: he always fell asleep whenever Mark tried to talk him through it, and that only made Mark grow frustrated and refuse any further attempts of educating Wardo.

 

Moreover, there was no one Wardo would rather wait on than Mark. After class, before lectures, outside of the administrative hearing room… Six months academic probation. Wardo knew they had to make an example out of him. Still, Mark was his best friend. He only worried, that was all.

 

He felt ridiculous paying for it all. Three boxes of full-fat milk, one loaf of wholewheat bread, one jar of nutella…that all went down well, but when they started getting to the twenty one cups of three minute noodles, the three six-packs of beer, the two six-packs of Redbull, and the nineteen packets of Twizzlers… The cashier began looking concerned.

Wardo smiled, and assured her it was all for a party, and left extra tips because of how nervous it made him to think about Mark eating all of that sugar and burning none of it off.

 

Of course, coming back to the coding dorm, cheers and celebration awaited him. Dustin bursting with excitement over being reunited with his staple food diet, thanking Wardo over and over, because Mark wouldn't let him leave the place until he'd done his coding, and pretend crying over his poor growling stomach. Promptly, he took three cups of noodles from the bags Wardo had been carrying, and raced off to the kettle. Christ thanked Wardo for the healthy food, set it all in the fridge, but even still, he took his packet of Twizzlers and got right down to eating.

 

Wardo wasn't surprised when Mark didn't come to greet him. Mark was always busy, these days. If it wasn't class and set assignments, then it was thefacebook. Coding and obsessing over his dry-erase board, scribbling madly about layouts and competitor websites, and why each had failed, what he'd do to prevent thefacebook from going the same way…

 

Today, Mark was in front of his computer. With his headphones on. Wardo didn't let it show that sometimes it bothered him that Mark paid him little to no attention, but today? Today Wardo just pressed a packet of Twizzlers to Mark's desk and slid it slowly closer to him with the pads of his fingers. Then, he kissed the top of Mark's head, and continued towards his bed to sit on.

 

It was a small smile that started to form on his face, because first, Mark's typing stuttered. His eyes left the screen for long enough to see Wardo's fingers. To see his offering. To feel the kiss to the top of his head. To bite the bait.

 

Mark's fingers stopped for a second, coming off his keyboard to open the Twizzlers and fish one out. He pressed one end to his mouth, leaving the rest to hang as his hands returned to the keyboard that once again filled the room with gentle strokes. 

 

Slowly, as he went, Mark pulled the Twizzler further and further into his mouth, his eyes unwavering from the screen and the way green text continued to string itself together from his fingers, on the black background. Wardo was a patient man, that was his redeeming quality, he'd always known it.

 

And it was minutes before Mark was pressing another twist to his mouth. By now, his lips would be starting to tint red, his breath sweet and tangy. Wardo was patient, and he just leant back onto the headboard of Mark's bed and waited for the second twist to be consumed.

**Author's Note:**

> I will never get over this ship.


End file.
